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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24987928">Hanging On By A Thread</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Nin/pseuds/Scarlet_Nin'>Scarlet_Nin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Childhood Trauma, Claustrophobia, Dysfunctional Family, Five is a pushy little shit but he means well, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Protective Ben Hargreeves, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, The Apocalypse Didn't Happen, The Mausoleum Reveal, Trapped In Elevator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:02:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,739</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24987928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Nin/pseuds/Scarlet_Nin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The elevator door slides close.</p><p>Klaus’s skin crawls. The floor begins to shift underneath him as they move upwards.</p><p>“See?” Luther stands as far away as he can to give him space. “It’s not so bad.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t have pegged you to be the type to fear falling to your death,” Diego muses, “I’ve seen you attempt to catwalk across the railing of our upper floor balcony.”</p><p>“Five would have caught me.” He survived the stairs and a fall from that height wouldn’t have killed him. “Probably.”</p><p>Diego opens his mouth to reply, but the elevator lurches to a stop.</p><p>“Shit.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1561</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hanging On By A Thread</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„C ‘mon, let’s just use the stairs, yeah? Stretch those legs with a little exercise. We could have a race, for old time’s sake. Relive the few happy childhood memories we’ve got left in the pile of misery Reggie called parenting. Sounds good? Great, let’s do that.”</p><p>Klaus claps his hands, bouncing on his heels to walk away, maybe get a little head start, to ignite the old flames of childhood rivalry between his brothers that they never grew out of. Anything to get away from the tiny enclosed space dangling in the air. Hell, he’d run the flight of stairs up in Allison’s tallest heels if he had to.</p><p>Even if it meant having his jaw wired shut again.</p><p>He doesn’t get far, since Diego snags the back of his jacket and prevents him from running off.</p><p>“You hated those races.”</p><p>Klaus doesn’t attempt to pry off the grip. “Well,” He drawls out, digging his heels into the ground as Diego drags him towards the elevator, Luther following. “I’d make a dashing referee. I’ll do my best to sound like Dad if you want—Allison finds my impressions hilariously on point.” He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Number Twooo, your body is a temple and yet, you’re taking the easy way out. I taught you better than this—”</p><p>“Next time you’re waiting in the car.” Diego scowls, letting go of his jacket to wrap his hand around his wrist.</p><p>“Bold words for someone who’s holding my hand. Just admit it, Bruderchen, you can’t bear to part with me. Not that I can blame you, I mean, have you looked at me lately?”</p><p>“I’m not holding your hand. I’m making sure that you can’t run off, dipshit.” Diego rolls his eyes while Luther pushes the button for the elevator. “Too bad we haven’t gotten one of those child leashes to save me the trouble.”</p><p>“Ohhhh, kinky!” Klaus flutters his eyelashes. „Knew there was more to the leather than your vigilante aesthetic. You’ve got a thing for tying people up, Diego? Was that the reason you wanted to become a police officer? For the handcuffs?”</p><p>
  <em>“Now you’re asking for it.”</em>
</p><p>True to Ben’s words, Diego cuffs him upside the head. Klaus hisses, tugging at his wrist like a fussy toddler on the verge of a temper tantrum.</p><p>“Don’t hit me asshole!”</p><p>“Then don’t give me a reason to.”</p><p>“That’s rich coming from you,” Klaus scoffs, “Mister I’ll pull my knives out at every chance I get. Not to mention your fetish for jumping through glass. And people call me dramatic. Me!”</p><p>Diego’s face sours. “Allison.” He spits the name out and Klaus snorts. “Five, actually. You couldn’t have checked to see if the door’s unlocked?”</p><p>“I was a bit too preoccupied at the time to worry about such things.” Diego snaps, and yeah, the excuse of wishing to save their sister from a murderer is a pretty good one, even if she turned the tables on him and killed him instead, “What, you’re gossiping over coffee now?”</p><p>“Hot chocolate, actually.” Klaus grins, nudging his brother in the side. “You know how old people love to run their mouths. Five’s far too pettish to share his coffee.”</p><p>“He shouldn’t drink too much, it’s not good for him.” Luther says with a frown. “Too much caffeine can’t be healthy.”</p><p>“Be glad it isn’t alcohol.”</p><p>Luther grimaces. Five didn’t take too well to the bar disappearing overnight. He’d relented with a surly glare after Allison blamed it on Klaus’s recovery from addiction—making him the scapegoat of his brother’s ire for a few days—saying removing temptation was part of the progress and he’d have to suck it up. While that was partly true, the motivator for banning alcohol save for the wines Mom used for cooking, was to stop Five from drinking.</p><p>Not that Five didn’t occasionally sneak some into his morning coffee.</p><p>As long as it didn’t become a habit of daily drinking Klaus saw no reason to snitch. At least Five’s intake got reduced. Counting progress in baby steps was all they could do with a grumpy trigger-happy assassin on their hands, who could run circles around their heads with his mind and age.</p><p>“He’s got a point—” Klaus squints at the closed elevator doors. “—but seriously, this thing takes way too long. Let’s just take the stairs.”</p><p>“What’s up with you and this damned thing?” Diego raises a brow in question, peering into his face. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.” The corners of his lips quirk up in thin-veiled mirth.</p><p><em>“Now’s the chance to tell them.”</em> Ben gives him a pointed look which Klaus chooses to ignore.</p><p>“No,” He says too quickly and pulls a face. “Are we even sure the big guy’s gonna fit in there? It’s gonna be super crammed. I’m all for some cuddly brother bonding, but not if I’m gonna end up squished into a pancake. Bruising isn’t the choice of makeup I like to wear.” He huffs out a loud sigh, playing with the hem of the kimono jacket he’s raided from Allison’s closet this morning.</p><p>Ben shakes his head from where he’s leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed into his pockets.</p><p>“It’s going to be fine,” Luther says, “There’s nothing to worry about you’ll see.”</p><p>“You’ll worry when the thing crashes and you’re stuck with one nagging ghost sidekick for the rest of your days, telling you “I told you so” for your stupidity.”</p><p>Diego’s head jerks up, glancing around. “Ben’s here?”</p><p>“When is he not?” Klaus winks at his brother, seeing Luther and Diego shift awkwardly, fixing their gazes on the spot.</p><p>“Why aren’t you making him visible?”</p><p>Klaus blinks. “Because he’s got the unfortunate side-effect of turning into a glowing smurf?”</p><p>“So, what, he’s not blue when you’re seeing him?”</p><p>“His skin is as white as snow.” Klaus wiggles his eyebrows at Ben’s flat stare, opening his mouth to crack another joke only for the elevator door to slide open. A woman walks out, making a face at Luther, before hurrying away.</p><p>Diego pulls him through the door, not giving him a chance to make a run for it, leaving Luther to push the button for the floor they were heading to while Ben follows. There’s enough room for them to stand comfortably side by side.</p><p>The elevator door slides close.</p><p>Klaus’s skin crawls. The floor begins to shift underneath him as they move upwards.</p><p>“See?” Luther stands as far away as he can to give him space. “It’s not so bad.”</p><p>His words are forcefully soft in their intention to soothe unknowingly ruffled feathers. Rather than to scold Klaus for his reluctance on riding the elevator, on calling him out on what would be a weakness, Luther tries for a reassuring approach. Like he’s eleven again, making a show of checking underneath the bed for monsters after Klaus slept in the bathtub since ghosts were noisy nuisances, who couldn’t stop bitching and wailing in for days and nights.</p><p>
  <em>(“See? There aren’t any monsters here and if they were, I’d beat them up.”)</em>
</p><p>Klaus didn’t have the heart to point out he couldn’t fight the ghosts.</p><p>Luther’s trying, so he bites his tongue and nods.</p><p>“Wouldn’t have pegged you to be the type to fear falling to your death,” Diego muses, “I’ve seen you attempt to catwalk across the railing of our upper floor balcony.”</p><p>“Five would have caught me.” He survived the stairs and a fall from that height wouldn’t have killed him. “Probably.”</p><p>Diego opens his mouth to reply, but the elevator lurches to a stop.</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>Klaus swallows thickly. “I can’t believe I’ve finally earned the right to say it, but I told you so. Did you listen? No. I told you this was a bad idea, I told you. And what did you do? Went ahead and did the stupid thing anyway. Obviously. What would I, the resident bad choice maker, know about avoiding trouble? It’s not like I spent my whole life actively seeking out trouble, right? You’d do the opposite of what I want because reverse psychology bullshit is actually a thing macho men take pride in and—”</p><p>“Jesus, don’t you ever stop to breath?” Diego pushes the floor button above theirs. “We’re just a little stuck. These types of complications are fairly common and nothing to worry about.”</p><p>“Right,” Klaus breathes out, ignoring the flash of red and black appearing in the corner of his eyes, “Get us unstuck then. Pronto please.”</p><p>Diego tries to get the doors to open via pressing the button for the elevator. Nothing happens.</p><p>
  <em>“You’ll die.”</em>
</p><p>A woman whispers, voice harsh in the tiny space. Klaus tries to ignore her and the three men standing next to her, clothes torn and bloody.</p><p><em>“You’re stuck and you’ll fall.”</em> She says, <em>“You’ll die with your bones cracking open and blood pouring into your lungs, just like we did.”</em></p><p>Just his luck. Getting stuck into an enclosed space with Luther of all people and an uncomfortable number of ghosts to take away the space.</p><p>No. Not stuck, he reminds himself taking a deep breath and shifting a bit closer to Luther. They’ll get out. Soon.</p><p>“It’s not working.”</p><p>“You don’t say?” Diego whirls around to glare at Luther. “I’ve already tried the emergency button, so all we’ve got to do is to wait around for someone to come and fix this.”</p><p>Luther’s brows furrow. “I could force the doors open.”</p><p>“Like hell you will. We don’t know where we’re stuck. It could be between the floors. If you pry the doors open now and that’s the case, one of us could fall out when this thing starts moving again.”</p><p>“We can’t just do nothing.”</p><p>Diego makes a frustrated noise between a hiss and a growl. “There’s nothing we <em>can</em> do Luther. We’re fucking stuck.”</p><p>The words make Klaus’s breath hitch.  His stomach ties itself into knots of dread.</p><p>“That’s not funny, Diego.” He laughs nervously, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket to hide the trembling. A chill creeps up his spine, sucking the warmth out of his skin.</p><p>Diego rolls his eyes, leaning against the walls with the button display. “It’s not a goddamn joke, Klaus. The door won’t open. And Luther’s not going to force it open either.” He throws a sharp look into Luther’s direction, who huffs and crosses his arms.</p><p><em>“Klaus,”</em> Ben’s voice cuts through the panic crawling up his throat. <em>“it’s going to be okay. Stay calm.  Just focus on breathing, alright?”</em></p><p>“No.”</p><p>Klaus hurries towards the closed metal doors, palms flat against the cool surface.</p><p>“Bullshit, try another button.”</p><p>Diego sighs in exasperation. “I’ve already tried them. It’s no use—”</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>Klaus calls out trying to wiggle his fingers into the crack of the door to shove it apart.</p><p>“Hello!? Is somebody out there? Anyone!?”</p><p>His muscles strain and burn, but the door doesn’t move. Doesn’t budge even an inch and his breaths grow ragged. Letting go of the door, he bangs onto the metal with his fist.</p><p>“Let us out!” He shouts, desperation raising his voice an octave higher. “Let us out!”</p><p>“Klaus.” Diego grabs his shoulders and spins him around. “Hey, man, stop. You’ll break your fingers if you keep this up.” He shakes him a little, tightening his grip.</p><p>Klaus shakes his head, shoulders scrunching up. “No, no, no…”</p><p><em>“Breathe, Klaus.”</em> Ben’s voice sounds clogged to his ears. <em>“You need to breath.”</em></p><p>Easier said than done. The ghosts are staring at him, realization dawning onto their bloody faces after his eyes lingered a bit too long on the spot over Diego’s shoulder.</p><p>The door won’t open. He’s stuck. He can’t force it to open with his lacking strength and torn fingers—</p><p>“Luther,” His head jerks up as he shoves Diego away. “Luther, you need to let me out.” He says breathless, a plea in his words as the woman starts screaming. He stifles a flinch.</p><p>“But…” Luther glances between Diego and Klaus before flickering towards the door. Hesitation clear on his face.</p><p>“What’s gotten into you?”</p><p>Diego’s hands grip onto his upper arms. Eyes narrowing with concern, he observes him closely. Too closely.</p><p>“Out,” Klaus sucks in a shaky breath, turning pleading eyes onto Diego. “You need to get me out.” He clings frantically onto Diego’s leather jacket, knuckles going stark white from the force of his grip.</p><p>“Woah, let’s cool it, man, you don’t look so hot.” Diego’s voice turns less gruff, edges smoothing out and his grip adjusts to supportive instead of constricting. “Let’s take a deep breath and relax, alright, buddy?”</p><p>The woman wails and Klaus offers a shaky nod.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>
  <em>“In and out. Just focus on us.”</em>
</p><p>Together with Ben mimicking exaggerated breathing despite not needing to, Klaus slowly calms down. Enough to breath on his own and he pretends he doesn’t see the way Ben’s face slackens in relief, visible to no one but him.</p><p>“You good?” Diego asks softly when he lets go of his jacket.</p><p>“Just peachy.” Klaus tries to smile but it falls flat.</p><p>Luther hovers near, a frown on his face. “You’re sure? Did you take something?”</p><p>“What the hell?” Diego rounds on his brother, face flashing with fury. “Ever heard of something called tact, asshole?”</p><p>“I didn’t mean it like that!”</p><p>“How else could you possibly mean it?” Diego demands hotly.</p><p>Luther’s chest puffs out, fists clenching as he takes a step closer. Klaus instinctively backs away. “I’m worried too. Don’t go around putting words into my mouth.”</p><p>“Funny way to show it, Number One.”</p><p><em>“Are they fucking serious right now?” </em> Ben fumes through clenched teeth. <em>“They’re not helping.”</em></p><p><em>Neither are you; </em>Klaus thinks hysterically. The angry voices are blending together with the howls of the woman and the angry shouting of the men, blaring into his ears so loud he’s afraid his ear drums will burst. Sweat breaks out across his skin, cold and clammy.</p><p>The lights flicker out, plunging the room into darkness.</p><p>Klaus’s blood runs cold.</p><p>“No, no, no…”</p><p>He chokes out, staggering against the wall opposite to the door and sinks down onto the floor when his knees go weak. He pulls his legs up to his chest, arms wrapping around them as the ghosts close in on him.</p><p>
  <em>“Klaus! Help us, help us, Klaus—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Angry and loud, they tower over him, snarling. Blood flies from their split lips as they reach out to grab him—their hands stealing the breath out of his lungs with their icy fingers digging through flesh. Dust is in his mouth as he presses himself against the stone wall behind his back in the hopes of getting away from the howling spirits leering at him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Cold and damp, he huddles into himself, shaking so hard his teeth knock together. The smell of rotten flesh is strong in his nose, poisoning the air with its fumes. Bitter and rotten like the corpses and their icy breathes on his face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s stuck. There’s no way out. No escape from their violating touches that cause him to shiver and their incoherent screaming.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Let me out, let me out,” He begs, voice cracking painfully against his dry throat, “please, let me out. I want to go home.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Out of the chill and the dark into the dim-light of the autumn morning. He’s learnt his lesson, he’ll do better. Anything but another three hours. Please.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Something wraps itself around his wrist, hot and scalding against his frozen skin and Klaus screams.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Loud and terrified for the burning touch to go away—they’re real, oh God, they’re real, he made them real and they were going to kill him. Terror strikes into his heart and his voice breaks, but he doesn’t stop. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Can’t. If he stops the ghosts will drown him with their voices and wails and he’ll go mad.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He screams, throat constricting around the lump tightening like a noose around his neck, for Dad, begs shamelessly to be let out, he’s not afraid anymore, he swears. Lies until he tastes copper on his tongue and childishly hopes there’s no need for another three hours.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Please no, Dad please, let me out!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The touch tears itself away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His mouth quivers, lips moving without producing noise. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>An ear-piercing screech cuts through the shrieking and his stomach clenches. His eyes slide to the door, eager the leave. He waits. For the crack of light to spill into the room, for the silhouette of a shadow to block the full rays of the sun at the top of the small flight of stairs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He waits. For minutes, hours, possible days.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The moment light chases away the dark, he scrambles to his feet, unsteady and trembling from head to toe. The fog inside his head clears a little, the door slides open without the familiar echoing creak.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s not Dad standing outside the door but another man. A stranger. Speaking and gesturing in a kind voice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dad’s never been kind. Never anything less than cynical, cold disappointment when talking to him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The stranger isn’t Dad. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Which means he isn’t in the mausoleum. There’s no way to escape from that hellish place other than for Dad to allow him to be let out. That’s good. Absolutely fantastic. Anywhere would be better, even literal hell. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He sucks in a breath, lungs easing from their chokehold around his neck at finally getting the air they were longing for.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Klaus?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Flinching at the sound of his name, he relaxes further a few seconds later. Dad never called him Klaus. Not once did he taint the name with his tongue. Called it childish and a waste. For him, he was always Number Four with the middle name of Disappointment. The only name his Father had given him aside from his boring number.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The voice was nice. Familiar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It doesn’t fill him with dread and fear, so he gives a shaky response. “Yeah?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A sigh of relief. “Think you’re with us, buddy?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sure,” What a silly question, where else would he be, since he’s not stuck in the mausoleum? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s great.” The voice praises gently as his vision grows clearer. Diego hovers in his sight, eyes wide in concern. “Would you be okay with me touching you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He frowns, glancing over Diego’s shoulder to Ben, past the wailing woman, to get him to explain. Ben always knows what’s going on. He’ll know why Diego is acting weird. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ben looks at him, lips pursed and eyes sad. The sight jostles him into focusing on Diego’s answer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You can’t reach far enough to get a good grip for the man to pull you up. I’ll need to lift you up for you to get out. Is that okay?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sounds fantastic.” Anything to get out and if Diego’s offering, he isn’t gonna refuse. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that crap. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He turns around, craning his neck to look up at the man giving him a smile, his hands held out for Klaus to take. A fourth of the door is open. The space isn’t big to squeeze through, but he’s certain he’ll fit through. He’s squeezed himself through smaller gaps and he’s learnt his lessons on how to judge if he fits or not. Dislocating his shoulder hurt like a bitch, especially if Dad’s too greedy to give him pain-numbing drugs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ready?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Diego’s hand settle around his waist, careful to be firm but not tight. Klaus nods eagerly and a second later he’s up in the air, grasping the hands of the stranger and pulling himself through the gap.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ben pops up a moment later. “You’re going to be okay.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Klaus hums, stepping aside and taking in the bright artificial lights. Not sunlight, but he’ll take it. He turns around, not catching whatever the stranger’s babbling on about and takes a peek at the gap to see Diego climbing through. He’s a tighter fit for the space, boarder shoulders and wider hips. They’re the same height, the only difference is the muscle size and it isn’t working out in Diego’s favor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s out after a minute, scrambling past the small crowd of three people in uniforms to walk over to him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Are you better now?” Rough hands cup his cheeks, forcing him to tilt his head up. “Not dizzy anymore? Your breathing’s evened out quite a bit the past few minutes, so that’s a good sign. Anything hurt? Lungs? Throat? Let me check your hands.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fingers go from brushing away his tears to take ahold of his hands. The tips are torn and bloody, one nail broken in and bleeding sluggishly. Diego hisses lowly. They’re hurt from when he’s tried to pry open the elevator door—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The elevator. </em>
</p><p>“I’m good.” He says quickly, tugging his hands back and stuffing them into his pockets. “Lost the fight to a door, but I’ve always been a lover rather than a fighter, so no harm done. Where’s the big guy?”</p><p>“Luther’s stuck for a bit longer until they can get the elevator up to open the door fully. Why do you—”</p><p>“Too bad,” Klaus tuts, jerking his chin towards the door. “You stay with him yeah? He’s gonna be pissed if he finds out we ditched him here. Take one for the team, m’kay?” He pats Diego on the shoulder, quick to turn on his heels and run off.</p><p>He hears Diego call out for him to get his ass back if he doesn’t want to get it kicked as soon as he came home, but he turns the voice out and rushes out into the street, Ben following him. He runs until his lungs burn and he doubles over in an alleyway to catch his breath.</p><p>
  <em>“Now, what?”</em>
</p><p>“Whatever do you mean?”</p><p>Ben sighs long-suffering. <em>“Diego’s not gonna let it go even if Luther might, though I honestly doubt that after your freak out. What sob-story or excuse are you gonna give them to get them off your back?”</em></p><p>“You know me so well,” Klaus forces out a chuckle, running a hand through his hair. The truth isn’t up for consideration in the endless possibilities of excuses lying on the tip of his tongue. Like they’d believe him. Luther’s reaction proved that. Speaking of that, “How about a bad trip? Sounds believable, doesn’t it?”</p><p>
  <em>“You’re sober. Diego would probably force Mom to check you and you’re not stuffing yourself full of drugs to prove a point.”</em>
</p><p>“Not with that attitude.”</p><p>Ben’s frown deepens into a glower of disapproval. <em>“Klaus.”</em></p><p>Holding his hands up in a placating manner, he says, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Ben, we’ll just tell them I’m claustrophobic, alright? That’s true, so you won’t even have to lie! Look, I’m finally opening up about my feelings, aren’t you glad your ghost therapy paid off?” He claps his hands excitedly, turning on his heels to begin to walk back to the Academy.</p><p>Ben follows him at a leisurely pace, hands stuffed into his jacket. <em>“What about Dad?”</em></p><p>What a way to burst his bubble.</p><p>“Come again?” Klaus asks, stomach rolling at the way Ben’s lips flatten into a single bloodless line of anger.</p><p>
  <em>“You were asking him to let you out. In front of Diego and Luther.”</em>
</p><p>Asking was a nice way to put shameless groveling, but Ben’s always thought the best of him. He quickens his strides like he can leave the memory behind if he runs fast enough into the other direction despite knowing it’d be futile. Escaping from Reginald’s oppressive shadow was impossible in death and life. Much like war, there was no victory to be obtained, only less losses to count in the end.</p><p>All Klaus ever did was lose. His childhood innocence, his family’s respect and Dave.</p><p>Admitting to these losses hurt and he wouldn’t give his family another reason to either call him a liar or to look down on him for his weakness.</p><p>“Sleep deprivation does funny things to the mind. Hallucinations for one. Maybe my powers went bonkers and poof! Daddy dearest crawled out straight from hell to join the elevator party. Not like he can rise from his ashes to rat me out. I’m pretty sure the wind blew him away.”</p><p><em>“That’s your plan? To say Dad paid you a visit out of the blue?” </em>Ben looks unimpressed with the brilliant explanation Klaus pulled out of his ass.</p><p>“That’s plan B like Ben, because all you do is badmouth my life choices, do try to keep up,” Klaus clicks his tongue, “I’ll go with plan A, also known as insomnia is a bitch with a capital B.”</p><p>
  <em>“Just so you know, I’m not going to become an accomplice.”</em>
</p><p>“Oh please,” Klaus scoffs, “You’re an accomplice by default. You’re the Clyde to my Bonnie, the other part of our Siamese twin set. Technically, you don’t even have to lie! I’m both, claustrophobic and sleep less than Five. God knows our little war machine had his fair share of hallucinations with the apocalypse off the table. Remember the hallway incident three weeks ago? Or the doll gossip session last Sunday?”</p><p>
  <em>“That’s not the point—"</em>
</p><p>„He thought I was his little mannequin wife. Me! Can you believe that? He greeted me with a “Hey, Dolores” just because I wore that polka dot blouse from Allison and the sequin skirt I raided from her closet. Hell, after he spent half an hour bitching about us, he let me put him to bed and I still have all my fingers!”</p><p>He wiggles his fingers in Ben’s face to prove his point, trying to forget that rather horrifying evening of Five dragging him over to the couch after catching him searching the fridge for a mid-night snack, with a margarita in hand and rhapsodizing about the woes of being related to them all.</p><p>It’s good blackmail material in the worst case, as mentally scaring as it was to tug Five into bed. Handling a time bomb would have stressed him less.</p><p><em>“Stop trying to distract me,” </em>Ben scowls, trying to swat his hands away. <em>“It’s still a lie, Klaus, because that isn’t what actually happened.”</em></p><p>“How the hell would I know what’s real? I talk to dead people.” He emphasizes the incredulity of his powers, giving Ben a pointed glance. “For all I know, I could be having a nightmare.”</p><p>
  <em>“Fine, have it your way. Don’t come crying to me when it blows up in your face.”</em>
</p><p>Ben grouches, turning away from him. He doesn’t disappear, never does since the first year he showed up and it’s a small comfort to have in the face of Ben’s clear disappointment in his actions.</p><p>Swallowing the retort on the tip of his tongue, the need to have the last word, he simply picks up his pace.</p><p>The silence between them for the rest of the walk home isn’t what Klaus had in mind when wishing the ghosts would shut the fuck up for once.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>True to Ben’s predictions Diego corners him as soon as he comes home. All but barraging into his room without a warning, making him mess up his row of stiches.</p><p>He looks equally pissed off and worried. His default face when it comes to dealing with Klaus.</p><p>“What the hell, man? You can’t just run off after that scene!”</p><p>“Hello to you too, brother mine.” He picks up his needles, whirling the yawn around his fingers. “You missed lunch, by the way, Mom’s chicken nuggets are to die for. Literally. Five nearly stabbed me with a fork for stealing one of his plate.”</p><p>“No, no—” Diego stalks into the room, kicking the door shut. “—you’re not getting out of explaining this shit to me by distracting me. Not this time. We can do this the easy way or the hard one, your choice. But you’ll talk.”</p><p>“Are you threatening me?” Klaus looks up from his knitting to squint at his brother, taking in the muscles coiled tight with tension. “You’ll waste your time if you plan to torture information out of me. If angry bitch one and two, not Luther and you of course, couldn’t make me spill the tea, you’re out of luck.”</p><p>“Last chance or we’ll do this the hard way.” Diego warns, tapping his foot on the floor.</p><p>Knowing better than to antagonize his brother when he looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel, Klaus lets out a dramatic sigh, gesturing for Diego to take a seat on his desk chair. Two angry brothers, his favorites no less, aren’t easy to deal with, since he doesn’t enjoy upsetting them. Riling them up with harmless teasing is fun, but having them genuinely fed up with his bullshit makes him feel like shit.</p><p>Diego leans against his desk, not taking the invitation to sit and crosses his arms above his chest.</p><p>Time to do some damage control in true Hargreeves fashion.</p><p>“I’m sorry if me freaking out on you, got you to freak out too,” Klaus says, watching Diego wrap his head around his shit-worded apology, “But in my defense, it wasn’t my idea to squeeze into the tiny metal box with Luther of all people rather than to take the stairs.”</p><p>Guilt bleeds into Diego’s expression.</p><p>“I don’t want an apology from you, Klaus, I want to know what happened.”</p><p>Diego’s voice softens, shoulders lowering with the regret weighting him down.</p><p>“Don’t think about lying to me or I’ll just ask Ben for clarification.”</p><p>“I liked it better when you couldn’t gang up on poor me,” Klaus grumbles underneath his breath, shooting Ben’s smug face a poisonous look. His brother flips him off, making him gape in mock outrage.</p><p>“We won’t have to gang up on you, if you just told me the truth.” Diego reminded him with a roll of his eyes.</p><p>“But Diego! A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.”</p><p>A knife flies through the air, effectively ripping his half-finished scarf from his hands and pinning it to the wall. Two rows of stiches become undone at the harsh tug of needles flying out of his hands. Not willing to give Diego the satisfaction of a reaction, Klaus crosses his arms over his chest and huffs.</p><p>“Just for that, you’ll have to wear that thing around town as soon as I finish it.”</p><p>“Never,” The scarf was bright feather-boar pink. “Also, stop deflecting.”</p><p>“Oh, you’ll look ravishing,” Klaus swoons, clasping his hands together under his chin, “Pink’s just your color, Diego, much nicer on your skin than all that black you wear.”</p><p>Any guilt harboring in Diego’s eyes vaporizes.</p><p>“I saw you cowering on the ground in the middle of a goddamn breakdown.”</p><p>Diego growls out, pushing himself off the desk.</p><p>“From what, being stuck in a tiny room? Yeah, I’m not buying that bullshit. Better man up and tell me what’s going on or you’ll make Ben visible for me to ask him. So, what’s it gonna be?”</p><p>There was a long, heavy pause.</p><p>“I’m not good with tight spaces,” Klaus admits softly, pulling his legs up to his chest. Ben stands up straighter from his slouching against the wall, perking up at the sincerity in his brother’s words. “Or the dark.” He gestures at his fairy lights with his hands, seeing Diego’s eyes flicker between him and the lights with a dawning realization. “Normally, I’ve got it better under control. Today caught me off guard and when the lights went out I kinda flipped my shit. Sorry.”</p><p>“No,” Diego says, brows furrowing in thought, “Don’t apologize. So, you’re…afraid of the dark and tiny rooms?”</p><p>“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds pathetic.” Klaus snorts self-depreciatingly, “But yes. Nailed the issues right on the head, oh great detective.”</p><p>“Okay…” Diego says slowly like he’s either trying not to spook him with his next words or just humoring him. Klaus doesn’t know what’s worse. “…and what has that got to do with Hargreeves?”</p><p>If Diego didn’t already look like he’s got an inkling about Reginald’s involvement, Klaus would have burst out into hysterical laughter.</p><p>But with Diego’s rapidly darkening expression, he doesn’t feel like laughing.</p><p>All he feels is a sharp twist of dread in his stomach.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You were calling for Hargreeves to let you out.”</p><p>Diego’s hands twitch where they hover over his knives, itching with the urge to stab someone. Klaus would bet all the money on the world for the target of his ire to be dear old Dad. He doesn’t pull them out, instead curling his hands into fists tight enough to draw blood.</p><p>“Screaming for him, actually.” Diego pins him to the bed with a sharp look, scrutinizing him from head to toe until his gaze settled back on his face. “Wanna tell me what’s up with that?”</p><p><em>“Tell him,”</em> Ben urges him on, walking over to sit down next to him on the bed, eyes wide and pleading while he glances from where Diego is staring him down, daring him to lie, to Klaus trying to melt through the headboard and the wall like a ghost. <em>“Tell him, Klaus, please.”</em></p><p>A part of Klaus wants to, to give into Ben’s encouragement if only to make him happy and tell Diego about the horror of the mausoleum. About the ghosts and the screaming and the hours spent waiting for Reginald to come back to let him out, cold and hungry and terrified of himself and the dead.</p><p>Diego would believe him too. After he saw him break down today, there’s not a shred of doubt in Klaus’s mind all he had to do was agree to the theory forming inside Diego’s head and he’d take it at face value.</p><p>But what would be the point?</p><p>Reginald was dead. He couldn’t lock him up anymore. Aside from the memories haunting him not unlike his ghosts, there’s nothing to be done over them other than to give him pity he doesn’t want. Another reminder of how Daddy dearest fucked him up six ways from Sunday. Airing out all the skeletons in his closet would do more harm than good. Let them rot away and save him the trouble of ripping old wounds open.</p><p>At the rate he’s going he’ll sooner bleed out than to heal.</p><p>And maybe, they’d brushed him off too often, too quickly whenever he brought up stuff about the ghosts, whether that be Ben—<em> “He’s dead, Klaus, have you no shame?” –</em>or the horrifying wailing vultures homing in on him every hour of the day when sober.</p><p>Maybe they wouldn’t think of Dad locking him up with his worst nightmares for hours on end as torture.</p><p>Maybe they’d think of the mausoleum as a timeout corner. To help him sober up or some shit. Nothing too frightening to make such a fuss about. They’d gotten glorious hours of bliss with his absence, right?</p><p>The mere idea of such a likely outcome, of his siblings scoffing and rolling their eyes, makes his stomach rebel, the faint taste of bile rising up his throat.</p><p>“What can I say? My lack of beauty sleep’s been getting to me lately.”</p><p>Diego’s lips part, eyes wide in dumb-founded surprise. “What?”</p><p>“My sleep schedule is a bit messed up.” Klaus pats his pillow he’s leaning against, watching Ben shake his head sadly, “In fact, it’s almost none-existence at this point. Five and me have been hanging around the house at night, gossiping over girls and boys and murder because Five’s an old man with a tendency for homicide and I’m, well, I’m <em>me</em>, so we’ve got our own little secret club and it would’ve felt awful to miss a session. Staying up an hour longer when I couldn’t sleep anyway in favor of some brother bonding seemed worth it. In hindsight, the lack of sleep does funky things to the brain, case in point would be our little psycho.”</p><p>There was a beat of silence.</p><p>“Are you telling me, that you hallucinated Hargreeves in that elevator because you didn’t catch enough sleep?”</p><p>Ignoring the forced way Diego speaks the words through gritted teeth, Klaus settles for a firm nod. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, it’s a lifestyle.</p><p>“Klaus,” Diego crouches a bit, so they’re on the same height and catches his eyes. He reaches out to put a tentative hand on his arm, leaning in closer to peer into his face with gentle eyes.</p><p>“Look, you know you can tell me anything, alright? Hargreeves–<em>Dad</em> isn’t here anymore, okay? He can’t…he can’t hurt you for telling me about whatever you’re trying to sweep under the rug. We won’t let him, I promise you, you can trust me.”</p><p>There are many things Klaus trusts Diego with. His life and Ben, having been the first person he’s told about seeing their dead brother again after his death only to have it blow up in his face. Still, he doesn’t doubt Diego’s affection, his willingness to protect him from harm.</p><p>But he’d never trust him with his feelings. Not after having them stomped on like they’re the old and worn family door mat. There’s no person left alive he trusts them with, not himself or anyone else.</p><p>Only Ben and Dave ever understood.</p><p>Ben had no choice. As a ghost there was no escape other than the afterlife, which was a point on no return for anyone else other than Klaus. Ben, who spent years by his side never once thought of leaving, was forced to endure the horror of the ghosts.</p><p>Dave for all his ignorance never doubted a word Klaus spoke. From the “I can see dead people” confession up to the end and final goodbye they had shared in the form of a last “I love you.” on the blood-soaked ground of the battlefield.</p><p>After a lifetime of being alone, two people were more than he could ever have hoped for.</p><p>There was no need to burden a third.</p><p>“Aww Diego,” He beams, plastering on a cheeky wide-toothed grin and closing his eyes to avoid seeing the hurt flash across his brother’s face. “You’re such a softie, getting all concerned and protective over me. Whatever did I do to deserve such a wonderful brother?”</p><p>Diego makes a frustrated noise. “You can start by telling me shit, how about that?”</p><p>“But I told you already!” Klaus throws his head back and groans, anything to stall looking his brother into the eyes, “Sleep deprivation is the real culprit here. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you can’t beat up the Sandman for not delivering the sleep my body and mind desperately carve. Think of all the children you’ll make cry.”</p><p>He puts a hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat quickly underneath his thin crop top.</p><p>Diego tightens his grip on his arm.</p><p>For a moment, he’s sure Diego will storm away—fed up with his antics and to nurse his wounded pride over not getting the answers he seeks in the privacy of his own room. Whenever his brother hurts, he pulls away as quick as a bear trap snapping shut. Which would suit Klaus just fine. He’s got another lecture from Ben coming and the loss of Diego’s company doesn’t sting bad enough to make him reconsider his answer. He’d like to forget this day ever happened.</p><p>But he doesn’t count on Diego’s stubbornness to pull through.</p><p>“You wanna do this the hard way? Fine with me.”</p><p>In one moment, he’s sitting on his bed, head craned back to stare at his ceiling. In the next, there’s a sharp tug at his arm, pulling him forward as his world tilts up-side down and the wind gets knocked out of him by a shoulder digging into his stomach. An arm sneaks around the hollow of his knees to secure him in an iron hold and prevent him from falling off.</p><p>Diego just fucking threw him over his shoulder like a sack of rice.</p><p>His brother turns around to head towards the door.</p><p>Oh fuck no.</p><p>“Put me down!” Klaus starts flailing, shrieking at the top of his lungs. “Diego, set me down! You can’t just kidnap me if you don’t like my answer. No wonder you fucking failed cop school!”</p><p>“Stop squirming,” Diego snaps, carrying out of his door. “You brought this upon yourself.”</p><p>“Fuck you!” Klaus crawls at Diego’s back, trying and failing to break free of the grip. “Ben! Diego’s going mad and dragging me off to his creepy batman cave—don’t just stand there and watch, do something for fuck’s sake.”</p><p>Ben doesn’t look perturbed about Diego’s trip to crazy town. Eyebrows shooting up as he trails after them with a spring in his step.</p><p>“Seems like Ben’s calling you out on your bullshit, bro.”</p><p>Klaus hisses at him, pinching Diego’s back viciously. “Say goodbye to your knives, asshole.”</p><p>He’ll sell them all at the pawn shop and Diego won’t be able to a thing about it, because for all his muscle size, he’s no opponent for his swift fingers pickpocketing him when he’s letting his guard down.</p><p>Maybe he’ll buy booze from the stuff, just to see Diego’s face when he drinks it.</p><p>Never let it be known that Klaus Hargreeves can’t take revenge on those who deserve it. Namely brutish brothers who think they know better.</p><p>Diego nearly drops him while walking down the stairs. Klaus heart drops at the lurch, the phantom ache in his jaw throbbing hotly in fear of tumbling down the flight of stairs again. He goes painfully stiff, not daring to breath until Diego adjust his grip and his backside starts to sting.</p><p>Klaus yelps, mouth dropping open in shock. “Did you just slap my ass?”</p><p>“Don’t pinch me, jackass.” Diego grumbles, “Pop a boner and I’ll walk the stairs back up just to throw you down myself.”</p><p>In response Klaus pinches the spot above his belt. Hard.</p><p>Diego swears under his breath as he rounds the corner at the end of the stairs and walks into the living room. He throws Klaus from his shoulder none too gently, making him bounce on the couch. He leaps back up from the couch only for Diego to shove him back down.</p><p>“Would you keep your hands off me?” He swats Diego’s hand away, turning to stare at the rest of his family gathered around the room. “Diego’s lost it. Someone should save me from his bullying.”</p><p>“I gave you a chance to come clean to me.” Diego keeps his hand on his shoulder to keep him from leaping to his feet. “You broke the rule, suffer the consequences.”</p><p>“I am clean,” Klaus snarks, sinking back into cushion of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “What about the rule “Do not pull rank”, huh? This is blatant discrimination.”</p><p>Five cuts into the conversation, easily drawing the attention of the room. “If I recall rule number one is: secrecy is forbidden. Thus, Diego and Luther are right in calling a family meeting and getting you to join by force if necessary. Considering you’re the topic of this meeting there’s no way for you to weasel your way out of attending.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, we don’t need to know every little thing about each other. Like you know what Allison’s favorite fruit is.”</p><p>Five, who indeed doesn’t know such an insignificant detail, falls back onto his tactic of talking over him like he hadn’t spoken to avoid admitting to his lack of knowledge.</p><p>“I think I can speak for everybody here, that hiding trauma that leads you to have a mental breakdown in public falls under the category of important information to share with the rest of us.”</p><p>“Luther told us what happened.” Vanya looks at him with worried eyes. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Klaus insists, throwing his hands into the air. “But if you must know, I’m claustrophobic, okay? There, I said it. Big fucking reveal. Can I go now?”</p><p>Luther eyes him with a frown. “That’s why you freaked out?” Doubt coats his words like he doesn’t believe him, which figures.</p><p>The one-time Luther’s got the proof, he still turns a blind eye to the obvious signs and symptoms.</p><p>“What part of claustrophobic do you not understand? Is it my name?”</p><p>“You were talking to Dad.” Luther shifts on his feet, fists clenching in his lap but eyes resolute to get an answer. “Was he there? With us in the elevator?” He asks hesitantly, voice softening the tiniest bit.</p><p>Klaus wavers.</p><p>Ben leans over the back of the couch, invisible to all but him and offers him an amused smirk.</p><p>
  <em>“So, are we still sticking to the ‘I just didn’t sleep’ story or…?”</em>
</p><p>“Oh, get fucked, Benny,” He glances over his shoulder to throw his brother a glare, not liking the self-satisfied tone of his voice. Electing to ignore him for the time being, provoking commentary aside, he turns back around. “No, dear Papa didn’t pay us a visit.”</p><p>“He’s telling me he hallucinated because he didn’t get enough sleep.” Diego’s sarcastic scoff makes him the prime target for Klaus’s sullen glare.</p><p>“Really?” Five raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips. “You can do better than that, Klaus.”</p><p>Allison taps him on the shoulder, holding up her notepad covered in her handwriting, <em>Play nice</em>, it reads.</p><p>“Alright, we’ll talk.” Five rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Go on.”</p><p>“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.” Klaus turns his head away going for petty childishness.</p><p>“You always want to talk to me.”</p><p>“Not if you’re being a self-righteous prick.”</p><p>Diego’s fingers press into his shoulder. “You say that like he’s got a different personality hidden underneath that attitude.”</p><p>“Klaus, be serious for once.” Luther snaps his fingers to get them back on track. “This is important.”</p><p>“It’s old news, is what it is.” Klaus shrugs off Diego’s hand making no move to get up from the couch. “I’ve told you and you don’t believe me. No surprise there, but I fail to see how that’s a problem for me. Not my fault you’re doubting every word that comes out of my mouth.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Five’s gaze slides to the empty spot besides him. “Why don’t you make Ben visible then? Surely, if what you’re telling us is the truth, then Ben will have your back.”</p><p>“Your faith in me truly astonishes me.” Klaus closes his eyes, letting his hands flare up in blue light. The sharp intakes of breathes force the room into a hushed silence. He waits for the shoe to drop, eyes remaining squeezed shut in defeat. “Happy now?”</p><p>Ben’s hand lands onto his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.</p><p>“It’s good to see you Ben,” Vanya says with a warm smile. Allison nods, eyes a bit glassy.</p><p>Five clears his throat. “Not to break this heartwarming moment of a reunion, but I’d like to get this sorted out as soon as possible. Ben, would you mind explaining what’s going on?”</p><p>Klaus stays silent.</p><p>Ben’s thumb draws circles on the back of his neck, the touch soft and ice cold.</p><p>“Ben?” Luther’s voice is coiled tight with nerves. Uncertain if not a little impatient.</p><p>“I’m sorry—” Ben says, tone sad like the time he woke up in the hospital from another overdose to see him hovering over his bedside with actual tears in his eyes. Klaus hadn’t known ghosts could cry beyond their dry sobs and yet Ben’s tears dropping down from his chin onto his face and oxygen mask felt as real as rain. It unwinds the bundle of bitter anticipation in his chest the tiniest bit and he leans into his brother’s touch to let him know it’s okay.</p><p>He understands even if he hates not getting a choice.</p><p>“—but it’s not my place to say.”</p><p>Klaus’s eyes snap open.</p><p>“It’s not my secret to tell.” Ben gives him a fond smile, eyes pained. “Believe him or not, that’s your choice, but don’t take away his own.”</p><p>Blinking against the stinging in his eyes, Klaus can’t help the smile creeping onto his face. He reaches up to lay his hand over the one Ben has on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze.</p><p>“Don’t coddle him.” Five scowls, leaning forward and bracing himself on his knees to stare them down. “It was a unanimous vote. No more secrets, remember?”</p><p>Allison raps her knuckles on the coffee table to get their attention. <em>We only want to help.</em> Her notebook shows.</p><p>Ben looks their siblings over, gaze shrewd. “It’s <em>his</em> secret, which makes it none of your business to pry.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for arguments.</p><p>Not that Five ever cared for rules or lines he shouldn’t cross. “He’s my brother that makes it <em>my</em> business.”</p><p>Out of all his brothers, Klaus never expected Ben and Five to be the ones to butt heads over him of all people. Luther and Diego? A given. Those two? Never crossed his mind.</p><p>Losing his grip on his concentration, he lets Ben fade into background noise. The comforting hand on his shoulder loses its weight, lingering for a moment before Ben draws it back with a sad sounding sigh.</p><p>“Why can’t you let it go?” Klaus gives him an imploring look. “Don’t pretend you don’t already have something cooked up in that big brain of yours. Give it a rest, will you? Whatever guess you’ve got, it’s probably true—there. You’ve got your answer, now leave me alone.”</p><p>“I need to be <em>sure</em>.” Five slams a hand down onto the table making them jump. The wood creaks underneath his fist, his eyes fierce with fury. “Jesus, why must you make everything so difficult? Can’t even get one honest answer out of you.”</p><p>“Maybe and here’s a thought, I <em>don’t</em> want to be reminded of how Daddy dearest used to lock me up! Ever thought about that? No, of course not, Christ forbid anyone ever listens to a word I say in this shithole. It’s always: <em>Shut up, Klaus! </em>And when I’m doing just that you’ve got the guts to bitch about me keeping my mouth shout about the—” Klaus’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click of his teeth.</p><p>Five rises from his seat, eyes wide. “About what?”</p><p>Klaus shakes his head. “Does it matter?” He leaps to his feet with a crooked grin, refusing to meet their eyes. He feels sick and having them closing in on him makes his flight instinct kick in full blast.</p><p>“I don’t think it does. This family get together totally makes it up into the top five of the worst talks in history, including the time where Pogo tried to give us the talk. Good old times. Now, excuse me, but I gotta go and get back to my knitting session—”</p><p>Five flashes over, pushing him back down the couch by taking hold of his shoulders. His grip is surprisingly gentle. “I think I can speak for everybody here that it does.”</p><p>“He…” Vanya swallows, a hand cupping her mouth. “…he locked you up too?”</p><p>Klaus shrugs. “Sure, he did. Didn’t know I wasn’t his first choice to be put on timeout away from the rest of the fam, but I’m pretty sure half of these times were because my voice got on his nerves. Pissed him right off and what better way to remove his headache than to lock it away for a few hours?”</p><p>Allison’s hand jerks from where she’s writing on her notebook. When she holds it up, her handwriting is shaky at best. <em>For Hours!?</em> She underlined the last word, the hand holding her pad is trembling.</p><p>“Wait,” Diego holds up his hands, voice low and angry, “Wait just a moment. He locked you up for hours? Just because you <em>annoyed</em> him?”</p><p>For someone who enjoyed Klaus having his jaw wired shut and the blissful following eight weeks of silence, he sounds awfully close to losing it. Like the thought sickens him.</p><p>“Well…” Klaus shrinks under Five’s sharp scrutiny, wishing he’d back off. “…not exactly. I’m sure me being a pain in his ass was part of the problem, don’t get me wrong, but sending me to my room would have done the job, right? Obviously, Dad liked his punishments way more than me, no surprise there. Still, there’s no reason to go all out for a minor inconvenience like myself. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he cared.”</p><p>He eyes his siblings, staring at him in varying degrees of horror and incredulity. “Which he didn’t, mind you. He’d need a heart for that, or a soul.” He snorts, pulling his legs up onto the couch.</p><p>“Hargreeves never did anything without a reason.” Five narrows his eyes. “Why did he lock you up?”</p><p>“What’d you think?” Klaus raises his eyebrows, scoffing at Five’s attempt of playing dumb. Honestly, like the genius couldn’t connect the dots. “For training, what else?”</p><p>The pressure on his shoulders eases up in the sudden silence of the room. Ben winces, mumbling something about being too blunt as his siblings stop breathing for a moment. Five’s face twists into murderous rage in the blink of an eye, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. A hot spot for manhandling him today. He'll wake up to bruises tomorrow and not the fun kind either.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Y’see, Daddy must have gotten the wrong book by accident. Probably bought a torture manual rather than a parenting book and apparently, the sensible thing to do when you’ve got a son, who’s afraid of his powers, is to lock him away with them.”</p><p>Klaus tries to smile to hide the wince of Five’s nail piercing his skin. Are those claws? Just because the apocalypse had no nail clippers didn’t excuse poor hygiene in the present time.</p><p>“I guess a hug or a pat on the back was out of question. No, sir. Better to lock the child away for his own good. Got a heartwarming lecture and everything! About turning my life around and conquering my fear, bla bla bla. Did ya know he had a sense of humor?”</p><p>He glances around the room, settling on Luther because if anyone had to know the answer to that question, it had to be Number One.</p><p>Luther doesn’t answer, barely reacts apart from staring at him like he’s never seen him before.</p><p> “Anyway,” Klaus says loudly, uncomfortable to be the center of attention when they’re looking at him like when they first heard the news of Ben’s death. “Dad and me had a roaring good time, or well, the dead and me did. Not the Father-son bonding I had in mind, let me tell you, but it wasn’t too bad. Papa never stuck around for long and I had my own personal daycare as a child, lucky me!”</p><p>The long-forgotten cup of coffee on the table shatters as the lights start flickering. The painting on the walls start shaking and the ground vibrates.</p><p>“I thought it was only me,” Vanya says with quivering lips and when he glances over Five’s shoulder she’s crying, eyes flickering between ice and earth. “I thought…I thought he made you write reports or something. About certain dead people you had to summon. Not…not that.”</p><p>Her eyes appear to be begging him to understand, earnest and brimming with tears. Heartbroken would be the best word to describe her expression and if anyone understands what it’s like to be locked away it would be Vanya.</p><p>Vanya, who’d written in her book about the ghosts being his best friends.</p><p>“You were gone for hours—days at a time.” Diego falls into the empty seat beside him, reaching out to wrap his hand around Klaus’s wrist. “All alone, thrown into what? A graveyard? A coffin? Did he give you food? Water? A goddamn jacket?”</p><p>“Who the fuck cares?” Five’s jaw clenches. “As if the Bastard had anything to spare than abuse. Whether he had a blanket or not, it doesn’t change the fucking fact Hargreeves left him to rot with the dead.”</p><p>“I wasn’t alone,” Klaus says, pausing when every gaze of the room falls onto him.</p><p>Five pulls his hands away, clenching them by his sides. “What?”</p><p>“Like you said, the ghosties kept me company.” He throws a glance at Ben, who grimaces like he’s in pain. “Never really left me alone either. Practically throwing themselves over each other to get my attention.”</p><p>Five tilts his head, eyeing the hand Klaus wraps around his dog tag. The way he bites his lips. Ever the thinker, Five looks like he’s regarding a equation he’s close to solving.</p><p>“In that elevator…” Five begins slowly, lips flattening into a thin bloodless line. “…were there by chance any ghosts hanging around?”</p><p>Klaus bursts out laughing. “When are there not?”</p><p>“They’re always there?” The urgency in Five’s tone unnerves him. “Like…like Ben?”</p><p><em>“Tell them.” </em>Ben leans over the back of the couch to gesture to the rest of their siblings. <em>“They’re listening, they want to help you. You can tell them, Klaus.”</em></p><p>Taking the leap of faith, Klaus throws himself over cliff hoping they’ll catch him. “I’m a ghost magnet. Just because I can talk to them doesn’t mean I can force them to leave. Telling them to fuck off isn’t as effective as you might think. Pisses them off more than anything, really, I mean, I get it. I’m the only person they can talk to, I’d be screaming my head off too to get some attention after being ignored for so long.”</p><p>Allison makes a wounded noise, shaking hand scribbling onto a new page of her notepad. She wipes at her eyes, turning it over in her hands to hold it up for him to read.</p><p>
  <em>They scream?</em>
</p><p>It’s an innocent question—a genuine one he can’t be bitter about. It’s not like Klaus talks about his powers to anyone other than Ben, who doesn’t count since Ben’s a part of his ability now.</p><p>But they never thought of asking him either. Never considered that maybe the people they violently killed in their missions stuck around with a grudge. That gruesome victims didn’t look like sunshine and rainbows.</p><p>Klaus never wanted them to know. To second guess if someone they murdered haunted them day and night, thirsting for revenge.</p><p>Maybe it’s high-time they learned. Five insisted on the no secrecy rule after all.</p><p>“What exactly do you think ghosts are?” Klaus felt the need to ask and didn’t wait for them to answer. “Casper the friendly little ghost? You think all of them look gorgeous like Ben? All nice and clean without a spec of blood on them? Even after they got run over by a truck, forward and reverse times two? That they’re <em>happy</em> to hang around with their murderer running about, ignored by everyone but me?”</p><p>Their faces say it all. They hadn’t given it much of a thought, similar to how they tended to brush him aside without giving him the benefit of the doubt. They’d written it off, uncomfortable with a power they couldn’t see or touch and the ever-present shadow of death looming over their heads and decided ignoring him was better than confronting the unknown.</p><p>His breath catches around the lump in his throat. “Never seen a horror movie about ghosts before? Allison sure as hell did, considering she got the lead role in one.” She flinches, hands clenching around her notepad which she holds close to her chest. “Tell me, what did they do? Let me guess, they screamed and cried and wailed bloody murder and tried to take revenge, didn’t they?”</p><p>She nods, face pale and distraught while Vanya takes in deep breaths to calm down. They’re leaning against each other on the opposite couch, soaking up comfort from the close contact.</p><p>“You know what the only difference between the movie and my situation is?”</p><p>Klaus lets go off his dog tag to wrap his arms around his leg, forcing Diego to let go of his wrist. His brother’s hand hovers in the air, unsure if his touch would be welcomed.</p><p>“They can’t touch me to kill me—” Sharing a glance with Ben, he corrects himself. “—Or they couldn’t before.”</p><p>His stomach revolts against the idea of icy hands on his skin and he can’t suppress the shiver going down his spine. Diego puts an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a lose side embrace.</p><p>“Ben wouldn’t let that happen.” Diego pulls him close like he’s afraid he’s going to be ripped away from him any second. “We wouldn’t let that happen.” He glares around the room as if daring a ghost to try.</p><p>Luther falls into an empty seat and puts his head into his hands. “Surely, there’s a way to make them go away? For you to control them?”</p><p>Klaus opens his mouth only to close it again. Five catches the action, spine going rigid as he sinks down into the only free seat left on the couch.</p><p>“The drugs,” Five looks torn between jumping away to get a drink and resuming his old hobby of assassination. “That’s the reason, isn’t it? To make them go away after Hargreeves put you into the—”</p><p>Deciding it to be a lost cause to keep quiet, Klaus fills in the blanks, “The mausoleum.”</p><p>“—into the mausoleum.” Five’s jaw must be aching form how hard he clenches his teeth. “They blocked out your powers like Vanya’s pills, didn’t they? You didn’t develop an addiction because you sought out pleasure or to fuck him over. He wouldn’t help you, so you decided to help yourself by taking the drugs like they’re medication, because to you they were.”</p><p>Not trusting himself to speak, Klaus nods.</p><p>The room bursts into an uproar of noise. Allison waves around her notepad like a bouquet, making soft keening noises with her ruined voice. Their voices blend into each other, each of them trying to talk over one another, to apologize for not helping out, for not questioning what exactly his special training was and how they were sorry for chalking his absence for hours on end during their childhood up to him sneaking out to get high. </p><p>“We’ll get it under control.” There’s a glint in Five’s eyes speaking of a new obsession he will focus on. Klaus blinks at the abrupt change of topic and marvels at how a word from his brother could silence the room at once. “Without the drugs.”</p><p>Five reaches out to squeeze his knee, hand remaining on his leg and his words hold a promise that has Klaus’s eyes burn with unshed tears. There’s not a thing Five couldn’t succeed at once he set his mind on something, whether that’d be time-travel or preventing the apocalypse.</p><p>There’s not much else Klaus can do but to try.</p><p>“Yeah and the ghosts can fuck right off.” Diego growls out.</p><p>Klaus snorts, the sound too wet to hide the fact he’s on the verge of tears. “How could you, Diego? That’s your own brother you’re talking about. Mom taught you better manners.”</p><p><em>“However, shall I live with such harsh rejection?”</em> Ben deadpans, clutching at his chest.</p><p>“Says the ghost.” Klaus rubs his hands over his face, hearing Diego lowly mumble an apology to Ben next to his side. He sinks into Diego’s hug, keeping his face covered. “For the records, I’m not riding an elevator again. Like ever.”</p><p>Diego lets out a sigh, fondly ruffling his hair. “I’ve told you, next time we’ll just leave you in the car.”</p><p>Klaus hums, “As long as it isn’t in the trunk of the car, I’ve got no complaints,” he agrees good-naturedly, ignoring the others asking for him to elaborate on what he just said. He fights back a yawn, deciding Diego makes a good enough pillow for a quick nap.</p><p>Who knew family therapy sessions could be so exhausting?</p><p>Now, he needed to find a way to tell them about his short trip to the afterlife. Preferably a tactful one, because there are only so many knives Diego can throw at his poor wall before he runs out and decides tying Klaus to a chair like a gift for Five to break open like a piñata would be the best course of action to take.</p><p>Oh well. There would be a time and place for that after his nap.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've got like four other mausoleum reveal stories sitting in my WIPs. Next to the other stuff like telekinesis and possession stories. Damn Klaus for having so many different abilities to work with. Lord have mercy on me.</p><p>Don't be shy to tell me what you think! Gotta keep my writing game sharp until season two comes out.</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
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